


Fourth Time Lucky

by AmbrosiaRush



Series: Nomad Series [4]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbrosiaRush/pseuds/AmbrosiaRush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series. The third woman to wear Rane Quinn's crow dies in a car accident, leaving him his newborn daughter to raise. The paramedic who saved his daughter might just be able to help him figure out how to be a father. (Part of a series, but can be read alone.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tinkerbell

**Author's Note:**

> Previous in series: Years Gone By  
> (This story does happen pre-series, and can be read before Milk and Cookies if you want everything in chronological order.)

The doctors wouldn't let him through. There was security but he hardly even noticed. If they were stupid enough to stand in his way, he'd end each and everyone of them.

"Stop," the voice was female, sharp with anger and authority. Out of nothing more than surprise, Quinn paused in his rampage. In this moment the red cleared from his vision and he was able to see what he had done, a doctor had been thrown over the nurses station- paperwork scattered everywhere. One security guard was on the ground- unconscious. Another guard was holding his nose- blood pouring through his fingers. The third security guard was still standing but his cheekbone was split, another doctor stood a little further back but looked ready to fight, but between those men left standing and Quinn was the woman who'd spoke.

She was short. Really short. Quinn had to look down to most people since he stood at six foot five, she maybe stood five foot two, and her runners looked like they had an half inch sole. She had short choppy black hair that at longest fell to her chin. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. She was dressed in a black long sleeved shirt that was pushed up to her elbows, a navy blue shirt that was speckled with blood and work pants. The badge clipped to the front of her shirt told him that her name was Allison Levitt and she was a paramedic.

"What the hell is going on?" By the edge in her voice, Quinn figured her night had been hell too.

"They won't let me in to see Jessica." Quinn's hands curled into fists once more as he stared down at the doctor.

The doctor went to speak but Allison stopped him by a simple raise of her hand. She turned to Quinn, took off her sunglasses and put them in the front pocket of her work shirt. When she looked up at him he was caught in her blue eyes, seemingly too blue for her hair colour and hadn't been expected. They were red-rimmed like she'd been crying. "What is your name?"

"Rane Quinn."

Allison nodded and stuck out her hand. "Allison Levitt." He took her hand lightly, she had tiny hands, delicate. "Come with me, Mr Quinn." She looked to the doctor and pointed to one of the injured security guards. "Deal with that."

She started to walk, and Quinn followed her into an supply room. There was bandages, gauze the scent of antiseptic. Allison looked around and then moved over two milk crates. "No chairs," she said.

"I want to see Jessica," he responded, he wasn't sitting down, he was going to see his woman. End of story.

"Her last name, Brant?"

Quinn was quiet a second. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"I was first on scene," Allison said cordially. "My partner and I took stock of injuries. I went to Miss Brant first, she was unresponsive..."

"She's pregnant... eight months along."

Allison looked down at her shoes and took a deep breath. She looked up at him. "We had her in the back of the ambulance but... I'm sorry, we couldn't... we couldn't save Jessica."

Quinn ended up sitting down on the milk crate after all. "The baby?"

"We managed to save the child," Allison said quickly. There was an overbearing silence between them only broken occasionally by an announcement or footsteps in the hall.

He'd lost Jessica. He had a child. Everything had been fine this morning. He was looking for a house where the kid could grow... where Jessica would be happy. He ran his hands through his hair and felt a light hand on his shoulder. He looked up at the paramedic, shocked to see that she was openly crying.

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl," Allison responded quietly. "You have a daughter."

::

Jessica's body had been nearly unrecognizable, but he'd insisted on seeing her so Allison had taken him down to the morgue. He couldn't fathom how their child had been saved. He had asked for a moment and only when Allison was outside the morgue doors did he break down completely.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn't turn back time and tell her to stay home. There was no one to go after in retaliation, it was a car accident, besides he could end everyone involved and it wasn't going to bring Jessica back.

He held her stiff cold hand for a moment but there was just nothing left but a corpse, and so, he left.

::

Quinn followed Allison through the hospital hallways where they met up with a doctor. "Hey Tinkerbell."

"Hey Tarzan, where's Jane?" Allison replied on auto-pilot and Quinn got the feeling this was a regular thing between them. 'Tarzan' seemed a fitting nickname for the doctor who was tall, buff and had long unruly brown hair.

"Probably talking her lawyer into getting position of my car," the doctor replied bitterly. "Uhh..." he nodded his head toward Quinn with a questioning expression.

"This is Mr Quinn," Allison responded. "The newborn in NICU... is his. Mr Quinn, this is Doctor Lane, he's the one who will be taking care of your daughter till she's strong enough to leave."

The doctor closed his eyes and when they opened they were wells of sympathy. "I'm sorry for the loss of Miss Brant... but, congratulation, your daughter is a fighter. Her vitals are... impeccable for someone who has been through so much trauma and is born four weeks premature. You really have Miss Levitt here to thank for that though, she was the one that brought your daughter into this world." There was a page over the speaker and Doctor Lane walked around them. "Duty calls!"

Quinn looked over at Allison. "You never said..."

"Whoever Jessica was to you... she mattered... and she's... gone. The baby wouldn't have made it to the hospital if I hadn't..." Allison crossed her arms in a purely defensive gesture.

She didn't have to continue, he got the picture. Jessica was dead. Baby was alive and in distress. "You did what you had to," Quinn said, he could respect that. "Where is Indiana?"

"Huh?"

"The baby, her name is Indiana."

Allison smiled. "That's a beautiful name, come on, I'll take you to her."


	2. Fussy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn's infant daughter, Indiana is fussing and he calls Allison for help.

The infant was screaming her little lungs out. Little hands were bunched in fists that she was swinging with all of her might. Her hair was blonde and felt like peach fuzz. Her blue eyes came from her mother but seemed out of proportion, too big for the rest of her face. Her legs were moving, kicking the best she could in her white onesie.

Quinn stared down at his daughter who was kicking up quite the fuss in her cherry wood crib. The nursery was painted a nice sage green the earthy unisex colour worked well for the nursery and his daughter's blankets. Quinn himself far preferred it to the typical girl choices of pink or yellow.

She stopped for a second, but it was only to draw in more air. He carefully lifted her from her crib. He was still absolutely terrified to break the little thing, after all she only weighed in a little over eight pounds. She'd spent a month in NICU til Doctor Lane had declared her well enough to leave. She had only been home with him for another month, most of that time he had his bartender, Martha to help him, but one of her daughters was getting married in Washington so she was gone for two weeks and for the first time he was completely on his own with Indiana.

He paced the room holding her to his chest but she just continued her screaming fit. He checked her diaper, but it was still clean. He tried feeding her but she refused to take the bottle.

"Come on, what's wrong?" he asked his little girl who kept screaming. He held her and walked with her for a while longer trying to lull her back to sleep but she was having none of it. Her little cries were breaking his heart. Even having two other children, he found it hard to believe how attached he had become to this child. With Brooklyn, Helena had gotten a nanny and he had no intention of sticking around in New York. With Sidney he'd been gone before his name had dried on her birth certificate. With Indiana, he was all she had. She depended on him for absolutely every little thing, and here she was in his arms screaming herself raw because she was trying to tell him something was wrong and it was killing him that he couldn't figure out what it was.

Babies have pretty basic needs. They want to be warm, they want to be held, fed, burped, they want clean diapers. He picked up plastic toy keys and jingled them, she looked at them with her wide eyes then looked up at him, and cried some more.

"Indie," he said holding her close. "What is it?"

He was man enough to realize when he needed help, and he needed it now. He mentally went over who he could call. Cricket didn't have kids- or at least none that Quinn was aware of. Herbert had two, but he didn't raise them. Harry, his Sargent at arms and Indiana's godfather was in New York with Dax, Frankie Diamonds and Go-Go. The rest of the guys he didn't figure had any kind of knowledge of children.

There was one person who he knew could help. He set Indiana down in her crib where she continued to scream and throw her fists and feet around. He pulled out his wallet and looked at the card before he picked Indiana back up and took her with him to the phone. "Quiet down or I won't be able to get a word in, kid." She didn't listen.

The phone rang and rang. "Hello?"

"Allison?"

There was a beat of silence before a little laugh. "Rane, right? Hey, how's it going?"

The paramedic had come to check on Indiana daily while she was in NICU, and the day he'd been able to take her home Allison Levitt had given him her card. 'Just incase you need anything,' she'd said.

"Uh, well..." he replied trying to focus on hearing her while Indiana was howling in his ear.

"She doesn't sound happy," Allison noted.

"I've tried everything," Quinn said. "She doesn't want to be fed, her diaper is dry, I have no idea what she wants. Do you think I should take her to the doc?"

"Look, how about you give me your address, I'll come over and give her a look. If it's anything serious, I can call Paul."

"Paul?"

She laughed. "Doctor Lane, Tarzan, you know, that guy who looked after your kid for a month. What's your address"

He'd always just called the guy 'Doctor Lane' didn't occur to him to ask for a first name. He recited his address for her.

She repeated it back to make sure she had it written down right. "I'll see you soon."

"Thanks for this."

"Yeah, no problem."

::

Quinn hardly heard the knock on the door over Indiana screaming in his ear. He quickly walked across the room and opened the door. He hadn't gotten use to how short Allison was, but quickly stepped aside to let her in.

"Nice place," she said looking around.

He'd purchased it just before he'd brought Indiana home. He'd gotten some of the guys to come and help him paint, unpack and set up the nursery. It was the bare essentials. One couch- brown leather, television on a stand, a few action movies in the drawers, now accompanied by a few Disney ones that Martha had bought for Indiana. The walls in the living room and into the kitchen were a slate grey. Floors were a almond coloured hardwood.

"Thanks," he replied.

Allison turned to him and reached for Indiana. "Hey there, sweetheart," she said softly, her voice soothing as she took the flailing and screaming baby off his hands.

"You think there is something wrong with her?"

"I doubt it," she replied taking a look over the fussy baby. She walked over to the couch sat down and laid Indiana down on the seat next to her. "Lets get a look, huh?" she said softly to the baby. "It's probably just something little. Babies are sensitive." Allison checked around the edges of the onesie for a scratchy tag or something equally as annoying but found nothing that she figured would bother the baby. "Did you try swaddling her?"

"Uh..."

Allison turned to look at Quinn with a slightly raised eyebrow. "That's when you wrap her up tightly in a blanket, it makes infants feel secure like they did in the womb."

"Uh... no."

"Didn't think so, we could try that," she replied. "Oh... I see."

"See what?" he asked stepping closer and looking down at Indiana, the baby still fussing but he didn't see whatever it was that Allison did.

Allison ran her fingers over one of Indiana's. "Hair tourniquet."

"Excuse me?"

"It's when a piece of hair gets wound around a finger or toe it can cut off circulation and cause distress. I get calls from panicky first-time parents on occasion who think their baby must have something horribly wrong," Allison carefully pinched the hair and it snapped off the baby girl's finger and she kept crying.

"Didn't work?"

"It's okay," Allison said picking the little girl up and holding her close. "All better, maybe you just want to see your daddy now, huh?"

He carefully took his daughter from Allison and got the little girl situated in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Allison's hand went to Indiana's back and soothed in slow circles. The crying lessened and then stopped completely.

The dark haired woman smiled up at him and he couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you, Allison. Sorry to call you on your day off."

"I'm on call today anyway," Allison replied with a shrug. "And call me Tink, everyone else does."

"How did that happen?" He asked sitting down on the arm of the sofa.

She took the middle seat facing him, one of her legs folded over the other, her arm resting on the back of the couch. "My nickname?"

He nodded.

Allison sighed. "I once went to this one hairdresser, and she insisted that I would look 'absolutely fabulous' blonde," she laughed and shook her head. "I figured, what the hell, right? Why not try it? It wasn't bad, but with my short hair and having to keep it back while at work... I kind of looked like Tinkerbell, you know that little fairy in Peter Pan?"

"I'm getting acquainted with Disney movies," Quinn admitted with a laugh.

"Well, Doctor Lane started it, and I figured he looked a little like Tarzan, so that's how it started. It stuck and spread, there are five Allison's at the hospital including myself; another paramedic, a nurse, a doctor and a neurologist. Everyone else just goes by last names to avoid confusion. There is a Doctor Levitt though, no relation but things got a little confusing so everyone took to calling me Tink."

Indiana was quiet but her hand came up and started to hit her hand against his beard. "What are you doing?" he asked his little girl who's blue eyes looked up at him.

"I guess that's how the hair tourniquet happened." Her beeper went off and she quickly checked it. "Oh shoot, do you mind if I use your phone?"

"No, not at all," he pointed over to the little table by the window. "It's right there."

"Thanks," she quickly walked across the room and dialled back the number on her beeper. The conversation was brief and to the point. She hung up and hurried toward the door "I got to go, there was a five car pile up on the highway, those paramedics are going to be tied up for a bit, I got to get into work."

"Alright, well, thanks for coming and if there is a way I can make it up to you, let me know."

She stared at him for a moment as if considering his words, she then nodded. "See you around, Rane," she took a moment to brush her hand over Indiana's head, the infant seemed drawn to the touch and tried to get her head closer. "Be good for your daddy," and with that she was gone.

Quinn watched Allison get into a beat up two door convertible that might have seen it's prime ten years prev

ious. She gunned it and tossed up gravel as she peeled out onto the street. He shook his head and looked down at Indiana who was quietly studying him before she reached up and swatted his beard again.

"How about dinner, kid?" he asked softly as he rubbed her back. She gave a big yawn and a tired blink of her eyes. "Or a nap?" he suggested. "A nap sounds pretty good too." It didn't take long before she was sleeping in his arms.


	3. Prescription

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison needs Quinn's help to save a young boy.

Quinn drove a cage more in the first three months of Indiana's life than he had in all his adult years combined. He'd purchased a truck so at least the vehicle could serve a secondary purpose like if a brother needed to move a couch... or a body, whatever.

Stopping at a red light he looked over at his daughter fastened and secure in her car seat. She was in a black onesie with SOA written on the back, a orange beanie over her wildly growing blonde hair. She blew a spit bubble and jingled her plastic keys delighted by the colours or perhaps by the sound that they made clicking together. Whatever the case was, she seemed content and that was all Quinn could ask for.

He took a few turns, and into the driveway and noticed another vehicle... Tink's. It was odd, he'd known her as Allison for longer but after hearing the story behind the nickname he thought of her as 'Tink' rather than by her real name. The woman was in her paramedic gear sitting on the step up to the house. Her blue eyes met his as he got out of the car. His kutte was on over a black shirt, he wore jeans, black boots and looked every bit the 'motorcycle enthusiast' he was as he walked around the car and opened the passengers side. "I wonder what this is about," he muttered to the baby.

Indiana blew a spit bubble and jingled her plastic keys. He got the car seat/carrier unattached and pulled it out of the car his daughter waving her arms and kicking her feet. He also grabbed the baby bag, he didn't have much of a choice but to carry with him, although Harry and Cricket had taken pity and gotten him a black bag, even stencilled on the reaper. Indiana started babbling baby nonsense as he carried her to the door.

Tink stood, she was shifting from foot to foot and looked more nervous than he'd ever seen her. "Hey," he said when he was close enough.

"Hey, can I talk to you a second?"

He nodded and unlocked the door letting her go in first, he followed her inside, kicked off his boots and shut the door behind himself.

She looked him over, the kutte over his shoulders. She wasn't stupid, you didn't live in Red Willow or any of the surrounding towns with out hearing about the Sons of Anarchy... hell you didn't live on the west coast without knowing about them.

She'd heard some of the nurses gossiping when Quinn had been in at the hospital everyday checking in on his daughter. They talked about who the Sons were, what they did, one of the nurses claimed to have been at one of the parties in Charming and that things had gotten pretty crazy. One of the women had made a comment on the club violence, Tink knew it to be true, she was a paramedic after all, she'd witnessed first hand the aftermath of MC feuds. Still, she liked Quinn, she enjoyed their conversations when he'd been around the hospital more, he might be a little quiet, but he was a nice guy, she enjoyed his company. That and there was just something about a big, strong, tattooed man with a baby. And he was so good with that baby too. She gave her head a mental shake- that wasn't why she was here.

Indiana whined a bit and dropped her keys. He set the carrier down, unbuckled her and picked her up, this immediately soothed the child and Indiana once again went quiet. "So... how was work?" He asked trying to break the silence.

Tink bit her bottom lip and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I need to ask you something."

"Uh, okay..." Indiana reached up and pulled his beard. "Ah, no." He gently removed her hand from his beard and checked her fingers for any hair, satisfied that there wasn't any, he grabbed her toy keys again and jingled them in front of her. Delighted, she reached for them.

"Your club..."

He got suspicious immediately and turned to face the woman.

"I need to know if you can get something."

He shook his head. "What?"

"Okay, I'm just going to lay it out for you," Tink said staring at him and he could find no trace of fear in her eyes, but there was no shortage of panic. "There is this kid, this little boy, his name is Ethan and he's five and his parents can't afford hospital care, they're completely uninsured and he's sick. He's at a clinic right now and I've...I have..." she danced a bit on her feet, it wasn't happy or anything, it was more a movement of nervous energy. "I stole a few 'scripts, wrote them... filled them under my name..."

"That's eight kinds of stupid," he commented and Indiana blew a spit bubble that he liked to think was her way of agreeing.

"He's five," Tink's voice was desperate. "What does money matter when it is the life of a child? The hospital pulled my badge this morning, there is this big inquiry, I could lose my job but all of that is secondary to the fact that, that kid could lose his life unnecessarily! A few rounds of drugs and he could be okay."

"And where does my club come into this?"

"I know who you are... I know the weight and sway you have with the club, I know vaguely what the club is involved with... and... I need someone with access to prescription drugs and the only person I could think of that might was you."

Indiana started to fuss in his arms, kicking her feet a bit and he set her down in her carrier and she seemed to be more content there for the moment so he returned to his conversation with Tink. "Prescription drugs?"

"Yeah."

"They cost pretty penny when they're on the shelf. They cost even more on the street, risk, margin of profit."

"I don't care."

He shook his head. "You could lose your job and you don't care about how much this is going to set you back?"

She stared up at him for a moment and then looked down to Indiana, and back up to him. "If she was sick," Tink pointed to the little girl in the black onesie and orange beanie. "Would you not find a way to help her."

"Whatever way I could," Quinn responded looking down at his daughter who was kicking her legs but didn't seem distressed. Whatever means necessary he knew he'd do anything for her. "But she's my kid."

"And this boy is someone's son."

"But not yours."

"No. I can't have kids," she replied through clenched teeth.

Quinn immediately felt guilty. She always seemed to dote on Indiana, she'd stop by and help out in NICU whenever she could, it was obvious she loved children, for her to be unable to have one of her own seemed a cruel injustice.

"Are you going to point me in the right direction?" Tink asked with her hands on her hips. "Or do I have to walk into Oakland and hope for the best?"

"You're not going anywhere near Oakland," he responded with a surge of protectiveness that surprised him, by the shocked look on Tink's face, it surprised her too. He shifted and folded his arms over his chest. "I know someone."

"Yeah?"

Quinn sighed hoping he didn't regret what he was about to do. "Yeah. You tell me what you need... I'll go talk to the guy."

"Thank you," she whispered.


	4. Good Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn helps get the exhausted Tink to bed.

Tink was out on bail that Quinn had posted. She had lost her job at the hospital and was awaiting trial. He'd given her a job at Sanctuary since he needed a competent bartender and she had a knack for remembering things, she already knew every brother's favourite brew, which of the locals usually got what, she could run the til, the bar and had a way of keeping the guys in line. Quinn thought it was mostly that she had the surprise factor. No man expected that little woman to have as much spunk as she did, she could verbally rip a man a new one.

The fees for her lawyer were costing her big time. She'd been able to sell her quaint little home quickly and the money from it was keeping her afloat. He told her she could stay in one of the motel rooms at Sanctuary and she was grateful.

He was counting back the til, Martha was at his house watching Indiana. Usually he left the bar to Martha or Tink, but the next morning was the deposit and ordering day so he got it done at night. He'd finished the orders before midnight and had to wait until after closing at two so that he could count off the til and put the money in the safe ready to be taken to the bank in the morning.

With the money secure, he shut the safe and spun the dial a bit before he stood back up checking everything over once again. He found Tink asleep on the couch and smiled a little. She was in a little black dress that insured her good tips from the male patrons, her little silver name tag was over her right breast. She was sort of sitting up on the couch, her smooth pale legs curled up on the seat, her elbow on the arm of the couch, her head in her hand. Eyes were shut so he could see the hues that created the smoky effect on her eyelids. Her hair was down, choppy around her chin. Her red, glossy lips were slightly parted.

It struck him at odd times, the fact that he thought of her as attractive. It first hit him when he had met her at the courthouse for the bail hearing. She'd been dressed professionally in a pair of black slacks, trim black blazer, plum camisole, black heels that seemed impossibly high to walk in, her blue eyes had looked up at him nervously. It hit him earlier in the week when she'd been feeding Indiana, and ending up getting spit up on. She had just smiled and cooed at the little girl, and ended up in one of his shirts, NOMAD written across her chest. And now, her sleeping here on the couch, it struck him yet again.

He grabbed her shoulder and gave her a little shake. "Tink. Wake up."

In her sleep she swatted his arm lazily away. "Five minutes," she murmured.

He smiled, just a little and shook his head. He could leave her there, lock up behind himself but he figured she'd have a wicked kink in her neck by morning. "Tink, come on. You don't want to sleep like this."

"Shh," she responded. "The sheep are sleeping."

He pressed his lips together trying not to laugh. "Alright then." Finally he just picked her up and in her half-sleep daze she instinctually wrapped her arms around her neck. "You don't want to sleep on the couch," he told her.

"Nope," she responded sleepily nuzzling closer as he carried her across the bar and down the back hall.

She had a motel room but to get there he had to navigate two doors and a lock. He knew the dorm styled room at the back was open- since it was his, and the door was ajar. He gave it a little kick and it swung open but didn't hit the wall. The place was kept clean, bed was made with clean sheets. He hadn't slept there since Indiana was born, he always ended up back at the house no matter how long a night was. The dressers held clothing, a few guns. The desk had a few pictures, some of the guys, some of motorcycles, a few new ones that were framed of Indiana. There was one where Harry was holding her away from his body a little unsure of what to do with the infant that never failed to make anyone who looked at it laugh.

He stood Tink on her heels, his arms around her waist and she still held onto his neck, swaying into him as he pulled down the blankets. He got her sitting down and she yawned but seemed a bit more aware. "Thank you, Rane. For everything. You know, I don't know what I'd do without you anymore."

She was less than helpful with getting her shoes off and he was at a loss with the contraption of numerous straps and buckles. He eventually just pulled the strap off the back of her heel and slipped them off, the hell with the buckles. He set them over to the side and wondered- not for the first time- how the hell she balanced on such thin slivers that she called heels.

Her hand threaded through his hair and he turned back to her, she had a little smile on her face, her eyes were alert but sleepy. She leaned in, brushed her lips against his in the shortest but sweetest kiss he'd ever received. "Good night, Rane."

He watched her in a bit of a daze as she laid down and pulled the blankets up to her chin, her eyes fluttering shut. "Good night, Tink," he whispered back before leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself.


	5. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bad night at Sanctuary leads Quinn and Tink to drinking.

They sat side by side at the bar. Both had whiskey, neat. Quinn tossed his back. Tink sipped hers all lady like. Both stared straight ahead. Quinn hadn't managed to wash all the blood off his hands. Tink took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling.

Sanctuary was a wreck. Broken glass and wood splinters littered the floor. Blood splatter speckled the floor. Bullets had wormed holes in the walls.

The day could have gone better... but it could have gone worse.

Tink took yet another tiny sip and set the glass down as near to silent as one could get. He could feel her gaze when she turned to him. A second later her ice cold hand was around his wrist. "He's going to be okay," she told him, her fingers squeezing before releasing, the hand returning to the glass.

He trusted her judgement when it came to bullet wounds and the blood of brothers. He nodded and reached for the bottle they were slowly working their way through.

Club feuds should never have hit home. He was already planning retribution. Cricket would likely be dead had Tink not been working the bar, not that he relished the idea of her being there when the semi-automatic gunfire started to rip through the building. There had been screaming, return fire, blood spilling, glass breaking, and wood splintering. Two locals were injured. A brother was injured. Bad business.

He was lucky that he had a few cops on the payroll and was managing to keep the crime scene tape off his door. The police were angry though, he wouldn't get away with this again. Retaliation had to be immediate. It had to send the right message. It had to ensure that Sanctuary was just that and off any potential hit list.

He refilled his glass, he made a gesture as if to ask if she wanted more. She considered her glass and quickly drank the rest down. As always, her glass made little sound as it came in contact with the bar. He poured her a good two fingers and put the bottle to the side.

She turned on the bar stool to survey the damage. Quinn preferred to keep his back to it. It was a tomorrow kind of problem.

Tink slid from her seat, landing a little less than gracefully on her heels, she wobbled a second before regaining her balance. She had her drink in hand as she carefully stepped over a piece of a broken chair leg. It was nearly impossible not to step on broken glass wherever you went so it crunched under her feet. She paused at the pool of blood and then turned back to look at the patch on Quinn's back. She quickly drank her whiskey but it did little to ebb the fear. She was pretty good at hiding panic. Blood didn't scare her, she had been a paramedic after all. It was the life she was realizing that she was falling into... a life she wasn't sure she wanted.

Allison Levitt had been a respected paramedic. Her busy work life had given her a rather solitary existence. Most of her friends had been other paramedics, doctors, nurses and support staff at the hospital. Now that she had been fired and was awaiting trial those friends had hung her out to dry. The only person who hadn't was Quinn. In fact, he showed up for her court hearing, posted the set bail, gave her a job, and a place to stay since she had to sell her house to pay for the lawyer.

Now, here she was as Tink, a bartender at a biker bar. She was no longer just dipping her toes in, but was becoming submerged in the lives of those bikers, one in particular. Her feelings had developed over time. At first she'd blamed the rough features, the strong arms, the tattoos. He was exactly the kind of man her mother warned her about. Later she blamed it on how good he looked with a baby in his arms, how he'd taken to fatherhood like a fish to water. He had risked a great deal to get the drugs for the sick child she'd been helping. He supported her and comforted her after she'd been fired. He'd been there at the courthouse, everything after and everything in between.

For all the good law abiding friends she use to have, the only people who seemed to care about her, the only ones who seemed to matter to her now were those who came to Sanctuary. She had learned about the men in kuttes, become friends, and joked easily among them. At Sanctuary she felt safe. She felt like she finally fit in her skin. Come what may, she would conquer her fear, she was here to stay.

More glass crunched under her feet as she walked back to the bar stool, but she didn't sit at it, she just put down the glass on the bar. "I'm drunk."

That blunt statement brought a little grin to Quinn's face. "You sure can hold your liquor though." Despite her small stature, she'd mostly been keeping up to him.

"You think that now," Tink said swaying just a little. "It just takes a while, and then it all hits me like a freight train."

He shook his head just a little before he finished his drink and put the cap on the whiskey. No matter how bad the night had been, it wasn't worth a hangover in the morning. Especially since in the morning he'd have to start cleaning this mess.

"How long till the train pulls in?"

"Probably like two minutes."

He laughed. "Should probably get you to your room then."

"I got it," she said a little indignantly as her eyes went to the ceiling. "Where did I put the key?"

"I've got a spare."

"Hey!" She pointed at him, swayed a bit and then giggled. "The train is early." Despite how crappy the night had ended it was almost worth it to get to see Tink all liquored up. She managed to get back up on her barstool, but this time she was sitting facing him. She smiled. "I remember where I put the key. No need for the spare."

"Oh yeah?" he replied rather amused. "Where's that?"

She reached down the front of her little black dress, his eyebrows shot up. "Here," she said pulling the key from her bra. "No pockets," she explained such a serious manner that he couldn't help but laugh. "What? Girls stick things in there all the time."

"Down your shirt?"

Her blue eyes narrowed at him. "Down their own shirts. Like money or like..." she trailed off under Quinn's laughter. "Shut up," she kicked him weakly in the leg.

"Come on," he stepped down and offered her his hand. She put her dainty hand in his and allowed him to help her down off the stool.

She found her balance on her heels but leaned into him. Her hands spread over the front of his kutte. Her index finger of her right hand traced over his President patch.

"We should get you to your room," he said as his thumb ran along her jaw.

She craned her neck to look up at him. Her eyes stayed on his for a moment before she gave a little nod.

He walked a step behind, one hand on her elbow, the other on her shoulder guiding her. She wasn't walking so well in her heels, the alcohol wasn't doing her any favours either but they managed to get her to her room. She put the key in the lock without scratching any of the paint on the door. She swung the door open and reached inside to flick on the light. While she was staring inside, she sighed softly. She ran her hand through her hair and encountered the elastic that held her hair back in a tiny pony tail, she pulled it out and her hair fell down brushing against her chin and neck.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She was biting on her lower lip. Her eyes lifted, finding their way to his. The liquor was still there, swimming, but also was the startling intelligence she possessed. "Kiss me," she demanded in a confident and yet needy tone that surprised him.

And he would have, long before they ended up at her door tonight if everything over the past few hours hadn't got to Hell in a hand-basket, if she wasn't so liquored up, if he wasn't trying to figure out this parenting thing without bringing a woman into it because one thing he knew for certain was that Allison Levitt would not be a one-time thing. She was the combination of heart, beauty and intelligence that he knew deep down would be an intoxicating combination if he let himself get involved. Then again, wasn't he involved already? She worked for him. Lived in the Motel. Whenever he was worried over Indiana and didn't know what to do, she was the first one he called. They leaned on one another, supported one another, they cared about one another, without him making the conscious decision he realized they were already 'involved.'

Still, she could hardly stand straight. "You're drunk." Normally that wouldn't bother him, but that was when he was with a Crow Eater. This was Tink.

"Then stay the night," she whispered, "So I know it wasn't a dream."

He understood exactly what she was offering. His hand slid over the curve of her hip, he pulled her close and he had to lean down to press his lips to hers. One hand gripped his arm for balance as her other arm went around his neck pulling him down a bit more as she kissed him feverishly.

She took a few clumsy steps back, pulling him into the room with her. His lips left hers to trail open mouthed kisses down her neck and she let out a low moan, her fingernails digging into his skin.

"You should get some sleep," he advised, his lips brushing against her neck.

"What?"

He leaned back and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "You should get some sleep, Tink."

"But," she paused her eyes confused and a brief wounded look flashed upon her face. "I just… I thought-"

He silenced her with a quick but smoldering kiss. "Not while you're drunk. It would wound my ego if you didn't remember."

Her smile mirrored his grin. "Think of the boost to your ego if I did."

He shook his head. "Drink some water. Get some sleep. I'll be back early in the morning to start cleaning up the bar. You're welcome to join me."

"What an offer," she responded a little sarcastically, but it was followed by a serious, "I'll set my alarm."

He nodded and kissed her once more. "See you then." She gave her head a small nod in return, he paused by the still open door. "Don't forget to lock up."

She stood and walked to the door, she watched his retreating form as he walked to his motorcycle. She shut the door when the bike rumbled to life and remembering his words, she locked the door. Standing there for a moment, she touched her lips and a smile graced them.


	6. Sentencing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tink spends her last night of freedom with Quinn and Indiana.

With every passing hour her hands became more unsteady. Her mouth was dry. Her mind came up with blanks when she went to fill an order. The bar wasn't really busy. Cricket and Harry were drinking in corner. A couple of locals were in for a beer before they returned home to their wives. Martha was washing dishes. Tink took her hair elastic out, ran her hands through her hair a few times before pulling it back into the tiny ponytail. She let out a shaky breath.

"Tink." She jumped at the sound of Quinn's voice. She turned to look at him, he was on the other side of the bar his dark, intelligent eyes made her feel naked, vulnerable, like every thought that passed through her mind was his to read. "You're off."

"What?"

"Martha's got the bar. I'm not paying two bartenders. Come on."

Quinn was always fair with the hours between the two bartenders, he never cut shifts. Tink studied him a moment before she grabbed her bag from the hook just inside the kitchen and came back out. She said a quick goodbye to Martha and then followed him out to the parking lot. "Rane?" She was one of the few people who ever called him by his first name, the guys all seemed to have nicknames but she just didn't feel comfortable calling him by his last name.

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" She asked, her voice pitched with her worry. "Did I do something wrong?"

He stopped walking and turned, she quite nearly walked into him and stumbled in her step to stop short. "What do you mean?"

"Well… I was working… and you pulled me."

He frowned and was silent for a moment. "Your court date is tomorrow." The topic was something both avoided like it was the plague.

She folded her arms over her chest, it was a defensive pose but mostly she just wanted to be able to hide her shaking hands. "I know."

"Potential last night of freedom shouldn't be spent in Sanctuary."

"Last thing I want is to go back to a motel room alone, I'd rather keep working. If you're worried about the money- you don't have to pay me for these hours I just-"

Rane cut her off his lips landing possessively over hers. Tink's thoughts slipped from her mind and for a single moment it was just him and her.

"You're not going to be spending those hours alone." He walked the remaining distance to his motorcycle and pulled a spare helmet out of the saddle bag, he held it out to her. "You in?"

She felt weight behind the question. This wasn't simply a ride, nor just a night. He wanted to know if she was in, in with him, in with the life. Her old life was already in burning ruin and he offered her salvation, more than that he offered her safety, respect… she wanted to believe love as well.

Her feet found their way to him and she took the helmet from his hands. "I'm in."

He smiled. "Good." He straddled the bike and pulled his own helmet on. "Get on."

She clipped the helmet on and threw her leg over, she settled behind him, her arms wrapping tightly around him, her fingers digging into his kutte as the motorcycle rumbled to life.

::

Tink ran a finger over Indiana's fine blonde hair, it was already darkening a bit to match her father's. If she went to prison, this little girl would be one of the things she would miss the most. This little girl had brought her into a new life, tied her in some way to Quinn. "I love you," she whispered to the little girl.

Tink walked out of the nursery and shut the door quietly behind her, she turned to find herself face to face with Quinn. Her heart jack-hammered in her chest and she let out an angry sigh. She swatted him in the chest. "You scared me!"

His lips curved in a small smile. "Sorry."

She opened her mouth to speak but the words died. She shook her head and dug deep to find the resolve she had at the parking lot. "What happens… if I'm sentenced?"

He put an arm over her shoulder and guided her back to the living room so they wouldn't wake the baby with the conversation. He knew he would hear the baby if she started to fuss thanks to the white baby monitor on the masculine solid oak coffee table. He sat down on the sofa and she took a seat beside him.

"You'll spend a few years inside."

She nodded, Quinn could be incredibly blunt. She wanted comfort, not his painful honesty.

"You'll be safe," he told her pushing back a strand of her dark hair that had escaped the confines of the elastic. "I'll make sure of it."

"How?" She questioned, her voice was spread thin in her terror. She didn't want to go to prison. She didn't want to lose years of her life. She couldn't bring herself to regret the decision that had brought her to this point, because of her the boy was alive and well on the way to recovery- that was with the added help of Quinn who'd been able to get the drugs needed from the street despite the big price tag.

Quinn knew prisons. He knew the big house crew at Stockton could protect other Sons during incarcerations. A women's prison was an entirely different ball game. "I have some contacts I've been working," he replied taking in her surprised look and widening dark blue eyes. "You don't need to worry. You'll be protected."

"Rane," she whispered his name. "Why?" She had wanted to ask since she'd first met the man. He'd helped her with the boy, gave her a job, a place to stay. "Why are you doing all this for me?"

"Because you're mine," he replied simply as he took her chin in his hand lightly. "And I protect what is mine."

Her heart was racing, no longer because of the potential prison sentence but because of the complete possession in his voice, in the simplicity of his touch. When the hell had it happened; that she had become so completely his? She could up and leave right now and she knew that he'd let her, but she wouldn't. Deep down, she knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

She took a deep breath, it shuddered as it escaped her body. Crying wouldn't accomplish anything, wouldn't fix her situation. Emotions rarely listened to logic though. The first tear fell and he pulled her to his solid chest and there, she found the comfort and safety she so desperately looked needed.

::

Static filled baby nonsense woke Tink. She opened her eyes, light streamed through the blinds and she turned to the alarm clock to see it was a little after seven. The arm around her waist tightened and pulled her closer, it was then that she realized neither of them were wearing anything and the crash of memories from the night before brought a big grin to her face. She looked over her shoulder at him. "I should check on Indiana."

"She's fine," he insisted getting a better grip on her hip. "She's just babbling, she does it every morning. She'll start to holler when she wants us."

She wiggled, getting him to ease up his grip enough so that she could roll over to face him. Her hand laid on his cheek as she laid there memorizing his face. "Thank you," she whispered. He looked confused so she continued. "For last night." He had held her for over an hour while she just cried, letting out all the pent up fear and sadness. He soothed her, comforted her, one thing lead to another…

He just smiled at her, his arms tightening around her and she wished she could just stay there forever but she had a court appearance to prepare for. Indiana also had other plans as her babble turned into long cries. Quinn groaned. "Alright, alright," he muttered. He kissed Tink quickly on the lips before releasing her and rolling out of bed pulling on a clean pair of boxer briefs and jeans before he started shuffling barefoot down the hallway. "I'm comin' kid."

Tink laid in the bed for a few minutes after that, enjoying the warmth of the comfortable bed. Quinn appeared in the doorway a moment later with Indiana in one arm. The little girl was in a baby blue onesie and her arms were moving freely and she turned to look at Tink. "Ba, ba, ba," she said reaching. The sound 'ba' was one Indiana had started repeating over and over for the past few weeks as she started to enjoy sounds and syllables.

"Dad, dad," Quinn said to the girl, as he insisted before that was where she was trying to get with the 'ba' sound.

"Ba," the little girl replied hitting his beard with her open hand and giggling. "Ba, ah, ba!"

Tink quickly pulled on a clean pair of panties and a t-shirt, both of which she still had at Quinn's from when she'd babysat Indiana while he'd been on a run. She tried finding her track pants but then remembered that she actually had remembered to take them to the motel with her.

"Ba, ba," the kid babbled a hand extended grasping for Tink, her tone indicating she was nearing crying.

"Shh," Tink said coming up and Quinn passed her off. She held Indiana close and she wondered if this was the feeling mother's had when they held their child. Indiana wasn't hers biologically, but she'd been there since day one for the child, she loved her unconditionally. "It's okay, baby girl."

Quinn put an arm over Tink's shoulders and pulled her close. She leaned her head back against his bare chest and held the child close.

::

Tink felt as though all the air had left her lungs. The jury had been sympathetic, but laws were laws. Three years, chance of parole after two. She couldn't cry if she wanted too, she was too shocked, too numb. She looked over her shoulder at Quinn who was sitting on a bench in the courtroom. He gave her a nod. She straightened up a bit and nodded back.

::

"Is that so?" Harry asked his goddaughter with a big smile on his face.

Indiana had been changed into white onesie with a black button up hoodie over top. The beanie on her head had been knitted by Tink and was striped orange, pink and blue. The little girl giggled kicked her legs a little. "Ba, ba, na, ee!"

"I could go for a beer too," he replied to her nonsense. She looked around the room for a second before frowning and he knew he needed to keep her happy otherwise she'd start screaming again. He picked up her big plastic keys and they clacked together.

She looked over and reached for them. He gave them to her, she held them a moment before staring at him and dropping them to the floor.

"I take it you don't want them," Harry sighed looking at the keys on the floor. He looked back to the girl on his knee, he supported her in her sitting position with the hand on her back. She stared with her big blue eyes and her lower lip quivered. "Oh Hell no!"

Thinking quick he tickled her sides and her grin lit up and a fit of giggles followed. Her beautiful innocent laughter had him laughing along with her. He heard a motorcycle coming down the lane, the gravel kicking up on the driveway and he stopped. He picked the girl up and held her to his chest as he reached for the gun. He had been a little paranoid since Sanctuary got shot up. He went to a window and peeked through the blinds to see the Nomad President walking up the steps.

The front door opened and a weary Quinn walked in and Harry knew immediately that it hadn't gone as hoped. "Well?" Harry asked. Indiana babbled the same few sounds she seemed to adore repeating.

"Three years," Quinn responded running his hand through his hair. Indiana was quiet for the moment. "Chance of parole after two."

"Shit," Harry responded.

"Yeah," Quinn's voice was tight with anger and Harry frowned. He could see how the woman had become entwined with Quinn's life; how they both shot smiles at one another across the smoky bar, their quiet conversations and bursts of laughter, how Quinn always kept an eye on her.

Harry knew Quinn well, he'd seen him with women, while he treated crow-eaters with more respect than most Sons, but he also let them know their place. Harry knew how Quinn was in relationships, he'd taken three old ladies before. Helena 'The Gash' as he thought of her had always been a bitch, but he couldn't blame Quinn, the woman had a set of tits that could make even the worst decision seem smart. Then there had been Karen. They didn't talk about Karen. Ever. Karen was hands down the stupidest move Rane Quinn, Nomad President had ever made. Then there had been Jessica… who Harry knew a secret about. The woman was dead, no point in speaking ill of Indiana's mother when it wouldn't change anything.

And now Tink.

"There are a couple of Russian friend's girls are in there," Harry said. "Tink will be watched out for." Indiana fussed and started to cry. "Here." Harry held the baby out. "Take her."

Quinn walked over and took his daughter but her fussing didn't stop. "When did you change her last?"

"I didn't," Harry replied pulling his keys from the pocket of his kutte. "Good luck with that."

"Jesus Christ," Quinn muttered. The door closed behind Harry and Quinn walked his daughter to the nursery and set her on the changing table. "Guess it's just you and me for a while kid," he explained to her as he unbuttoned her hoodie and then her onesie. "Tink is… in time-out."

The girl pouted a bit and kicked her legs.

"Yeah, I don't like it either." He pulled her onesie off and unfastened the diaper, pulling it off, rolling it up and tossing it in the trash bin. He grabbed another and efficiently put it on.

The girl started to cry and he quickly dressed her. He held his daughter to his chest and tried to soothe her but she didn't take to the comfort. She looked around the room and it was like she was searching for Tink. "Ba, ba, ba!" The girl babbled in distress.

"I know," he whispered pulling the beanie Tink had knit down over her ears. "I miss her already, too."


	7. Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn visits Tink in prison, comes home to find Cricket babysitting.

Quinn felt uncomfortable in the prison despite the fact that he could leave at any time. Tink sat across from him, she looked so tiny in her grey-blue prison jumper. She never quite made eye contact during their numerous visits over the past year and a half. She didn't speak much. He could practically recite every conversation they had, it didn't change much from visit to visit.

"How are the guys," she would ask.

"They're good," he'd reply.

"Indie?"

"Healthy and happy."

"You?"

"Okay," he'd reply. "How are you doing?"

She always waved him off dismissively. "Fine."

Mostly, they sat in silence. He didn't blame her, never got mad, never stormed out, and never pushed too hard. He knew how hard it was to spend years of your life in a prison environment. He hoped that it wouldn't pick apart her spirit, hoped it wouldn't break her as it had so many others.

Her arms folded over her chest and she hugged herself tightly. "You don't have to come here, you know."

"I know," he replied. "I choose to, I want to."

A smile ghosted upon her lips, it didn't linger.

::

The first thing Quinn heard when he came in his front door was cursing. "Mind your language in front of the kid."

Despite books and people saying she should be talking already, Indiana continued her near constant babble although it almost sounded as if she was making sense. Sometimes her tone would indicate a question while another would be more of a demand. She was learning, growing like a weed.

"Ah, ah!" The moment Indiana's eyes found him she reached over Cricket's shoulder trying to get to her father.

"Kid spit up all down the back of my shirt!" Cricket complained angrily.

As if understanding the anger directed at her she started her deep breaths that were followed by a long wail.

"Jesus Christ!" Cricket held the kid out and Quinn brought her into the safety of his arms. "Kid has some pipes!"

"What are you doing here anyway?" Quinn asked. When he had gone to see Tink, he'd left Indiana in Martha's care.

"Martha went grocery shopping. Kid's being picky with her food."

Quinn looked at Indiana, who had calmed almost instantly while being held by her father. She stared back at him. "Mmm," she pointed to the fridge.

He walked over to the fridge and opened it. He pulled out a container of yogurt and turned around to root through utensils in the dry rack till he came across a spoon. He strapped her into her high-chair and she swung her feet happily.

She was taller than most two year olds and people usually guessed she was around three. He worried though that she'd yet to say anything coherent although he did believe she understood considerably more than people gave her credit for. He set the yogurt down on the plastic surface in front of her and gave her the spoon. For the most part she was pretty good about feeding herself and never made too much of a mess, unless it was spaghetti, then all hell broke loose.

"I'm heading out, smell like fucking baby vomit."

"Really," Quinn pointed at the kid. "Watch it."

"Kid doesn't even talk."

"She will."

The door opened and Quinn had his hand on the gun tucked into the back of his pants in an instant. Harry came barging in, the door slamming loudly behind him. "We got a problem, Pres."

Quinn cursed under his breath, lowly so his daughter wouldn't hear. "What now?"

Mayans. Always the fucking Mayans. The more they talked about it, the louder they got. Indiana's babbled in the background sounding more and more irritated but Quinn was focused on the conversation at hand. It took a minute, but he realized she wasn't babbling, she was saying the same thing over and over with increasing anxiety.

"Dada! Dada! Daddy!"

The three men stopped their conversation and turned. The girl looked distressed in her high chair, she'd left the spoon and yogurt cup on the surface and stared at them with her big blue eyes, her arms reached. "Daddy."

Didn't matter how shitty the day had been anymore. The day became a ray of sunshine as Quinn finally heard his daughter speak her first word.


	8. Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tink is released from prison.

Two years and three months. Eight hundred and twenty days. That's how long Tink had spent in prison. It made her sick to calculate the hours. She grabbed her possessions back in the brown paper bag the corrections officer handed to her. She moved quickly, not wanting to stay inside the prison walls for any longer than necessary.

Quinn's head turned when he heard the metal screech of the door opening. Tink protected her eyes with her hand. He noticed her skin had dulled during her time inside. She appeared to have dropped a bit of weight, the clothing she'd worn to her sentencing seemed too loose on her body and she wasn't a big woman to begin with. When she got closer he noticed the skittish look in her eye, the nervousness.

"Hey," he said as he stood in the middle of the lot under the hot Californian sun.

"Hey," she responded wearily.

She had her arms crossed over her chest as if she were cold, even though he knew she had to be uncomfortably hot in that black blazer. He frowned, she seemed to have lost that spark, that light uniquely hers, while she'd been inside.

He went to touch her face but her hand darted out to swat him away while she took a quick step back. For a moment she looked furious, her eyes feral, just a split second and then it was replaced by regret, her eyes revealing her shame.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, Rane. I didn't mean to."

She huffed out a breath, annoyed with herself. He had done so much for her, he had been her only consistent visitor. Her cousin had come once from out of state. Cricket had shown up a few times, surprising her. Harry came if Quinn had gone on a run and couldn't make it for his weekly visit.

Prison had changed her. She didn't like that she'd allowed it to have such power over her thoughts, her emotions, the way she reacted to the world around herself. Being as small in stature as she was she'd had to fight tooth and nail with some of the women. She'd never been alone in a fight though, she'd been protected. Just like he'd said she would be. Once she'd asked one of the women, who while personally didn't seem to like her, always came to her defense. The woman had brushed it off and hadn't bothered to answer. Prison came with the quiet, the depth of extreme loneliness.

"Don't worry about it," he kindly brushed it off. "Takes a while," he said quietly to her. "To readjust to the world outside of the chains."

She nodded and turned to look back at the plain brick building surrounded by chain link fences. "What now?" she feared looking at him while asking. Things could never be what they were before she went in. Prison had changed her. How permanent some changes were had yet to be seen but there was no denying that change had happened. She couldn't assume that she could just drop back in where she'd left off, a job, a place to stay…

He mounted the motorcycle and held the second helmet out to her. "Get on."

::

He'd driven them as far as possible on the dead end road before he stopped and turned off the bike at the tree line. She got off the motorcycle and he did the same a second later.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

"Leave the helmet," he told her, ignoring her question. He hung his helmet on the handlebar and started walking. With an annoyed sigh, Tink balanced her helmet on the seat and followed him.

"Rane!" Tink called as she stumbled a little. Her shoes although more practical then ones she wore to work were still completely impractical for a walk through the woods. "Where the hell are we going?"

He turned and held out a hand to assist her down the small hill and into a clearing, a stream cutting through it water rushing over the stones. He sat down and a second later she followed his lead.

Tink turned to him, trying to figure out why they were there but he said nothing just stared out at the water, the field of grass, the solid oak trees mixed with tall firs and sharply contrasting birch trees. Pressing her lips together she leaned forward crossing her arms on her knees and resting her chin on her forearms. She managed to keep quiet for a full minute. "What are we doing here?"

"When I got out last I had to go straight to club business," he said staring off to the treeline. "It isn't easy going to prison, Tink, but it sure as hell isn't easy coming out of it either. Take a breath. Relax. You're out. You made it. You're free."

Her breath caught in her chest for a moment but she finally managed to push it out and this time when she looked out she allowed herself to see the beauty of her surroundings. She took a deep breath and could smell the fresh grass and wildflowers. The sound of the water running had a relaxing factor to it.

She let herself fall back and lay down on the grass. She stared up through the canopy of leaves that sunlight filtered through beautifully. She turned her head to find him staring at her. She reached out and tentatively brushed the back of her hand against his. This earned her a smile, he took her hand in his and gave a comforting squeeze.

::

Tink startled awake, shocked that she'd let herself fall so deeply asleep. Quinn hadn't moved, his hand still over hers. "What do I do now?" she asked quietly not wanting to break the serenity of the surroundings.

"You get to go home; eat a meal that doesn't taste like rubber, be around those who care about you. It isn't easy but you get to assimilate to your life again. By the way, you're working tomorrow."

She managed a half-smile. "Good." She frowned once again, she'd left her life in quite the state. She lived in a motel room. Her social life had fallen apart, the only people who seemed to care even a little were those who frequented Sanctuary. A home cooked meal sounded nice. Getting to work, keeping busy would be beneficial.

"Oh, and I moved all your stuff out of the motel."

"What?" She sat upright so fast it gave her a dizzying head rush.

"Had a few busy weekends," he replied with a shrug.

"And where is my stuff?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Packed in boxes until you decide what you want." His hand threaded through her hair, it had grown a little longer in prison and now fell an inch past her shoulder. "Come home with me."

She honestly couldn't tell it was a question or a demand. Perhaps it was both. She swallowed hard and tried to find her breath. "I can't," she replied her voice barely a whisper. His touch fell away and his arms rested on his knees as he went back to staring at the trees. "I need to do this Rane," her voice sharp, strong for the first time in a long time. "I need to know I can stand on my own two feet again. You understand, right?"

She studied his profile, despite his obvious attempts not to, a smile formed on his face. "I understand. Still need a job?"

"Yeah."

"Need a place to stay?"

"I'm not staying with you, or at the motel. I need to do this, Rane."

"I know a guy, whose ex is renting out an apartment, it's small, old, and nothing fancy but it's in town and rent is pretty cheap. I can give you her number."

She smiled, he had expected this of her because he simply knew her that well. "I'd appreciate it." She enjoyed another moment of the soothing scenery before she turned to him. "How is Indiana?"

"She's good, creeping up on three. Runs around everywhere. Doesn't talk much but hears everything."

Tink smiled a little but then frowned for the years lost that she'd never get back. "She won't know me."

"She doesn't know you now. That doesn't mean she won't know you," Quinn corrected.

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. "I'm so thankful for you."

He shifted so he could put his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. He kissed the top of her head and for the first time since being released, she really believed that everything would be okay.

::

Quinn ushered Tink into his home and he could feel her nerves. She spotted Martha in the living room tidying up some toys. Indiana's head popped up over the couch, and Tink got her first look at the girl in years. Her blue eyes looked a bit out of proportion, too big for her face but it gave her an incredibly innocent look. Her hair fell in a bob around her chin, a piece clipped back with a glittery purple clip.

"Daddy!" Indiana proclaimed happily. The girl dropped down to the couch.

"Need a hand?" Martha asked the girl.

"No! I can do it!" Indiana said.

"She's on an independent streak," Quinn muttered. Since her first word, she gone right into full sentences and can hold a conversation as long as it's something she's interested in. He figured she'd always listened so well, was able to communicate her needs by pointing at things that she just never bothered to speak. The stress of watching Cricket, Herbert and himself arguing over the Mayans while not paying her any attention seemed to make her realize she needed to use her words to get them to pay attention. She still wasn't particularly chatty, and acted shy around anyone outside of the club. Brothers from other charters could come into Sanctuary and she'd be fine with them, he figured she associated the kutte with the close men in her life and instinctively trusted them.

Tink smiled as she heard the girl's feet hit the floor. A second later the girl was around the couch, she was pretty tall for nearly three but Tink figured it should be expected considering the height of her father. She wore a long purple shirt and black leggings, little black sneakers on her feet.

Indiana ran toward the door and crashed right into her father's leg. "Hi Daddy!"

"Hi sweetheart," he responded running his hand over her fine hair. "This is my friend, Tink. Can you say hello?"

The girl hid behind her father's leg and peeked around it up at Tink with her big eyes. She looked up to her father for confirmation and he nodded. She waved a little. "Hi," she said softly.

Tink crouched down so the girl wouldn't have to look up at her. She felt the tears prick her eyes and fought them back. "Hi Indiana." She'd missed the little girl so much while she'd been in prison. How big Indiana had gotten just put the years gone in perspective. She'd missed so much. She stood up and turned away so the girl wouldn't see her tears. She covered her mouth trying to keep from sobbing.

She felt a little hand pull on her pant leg, she looked down. Big sympathetic eyes looked up at her. "What's wrong?" Indiana asked with all the innocence of her few years. "Do you have a boo-boo? Daddy can kiss it better. We have Band-Aids."

Quinn looked to the ceiling and tried not to laugh. Tink's laughter lit up the room, a long unheard sound.

"What's funny Daddy?" Indiana asked. "I don't get it."

"Nothing's funny. You want dinner?"

"Yeah. Can we have Twinkies?"

"Maybe for dessert."

"Why can't we just eat them?"

"Because they're not good for you."

"They are so good!"

"They taste good but you have to eat nutritional foods so you can grow up big and strong, remember?"

"But big and strong foods are yucky. No a-per-…ace-per… as-pair…"

"Asparagus."

"Yeah, that thing. No green sticks. Them yucky."

"They're yucky," Quinn said correcting her.

"See you think so too!"

Tink laughed once again at the cleverness of the little girl and found the tension she'd held in prison start to melt away.


	9. Lockdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanctuary goes under lockdown. Tink finds out something about Quinn.

The scent of home cooking wafted through the small apartment Tink currently rented. She'd painted the kitchen a sky blue and enjoyed spending time in it. When she'd been working as a paramedic, she never made time to cook for herself. Now that she worked nights at the bar, she usually made dinner before going into work. She didn't like the idea of getting hungry at work and snacking on unhealthy bar foods.

She set the stew down to simmer and put the lid back on it. While her life before prison had seemed to be a jumbled mess, life after it seemed remarkably normal. She worked five days a week in a bar, made a fair wage and good tips. Her apartment may be small, but she enjoyed her own space. She had a loyal, loving, strong man in her life that had become her rock. The brotherhood of the Nomads had become in some odd way, her extended family. Little Indiana brought a dose of innocence and playfulness to the mix. The frequent local patrons of the bar had become friends. It may not be the life she had before, but it was in no way less.

The deadbolt turned over, and she knew of only one man with the key. Quinn walked in, blue jeans slung low, boots on, kutte over a t-shirt that had been for some motorcycle show in New Orleans. He nodded his head to her and gave her a half-grin.

She smiled in return. "Hey."

"Hey," he responded. He cleared the room quickly with a couple of his lengthy strides. A hand slipped around the back of her neck, under her black choppy hair pulling her closer as his lips claimed hers.

She could feel the tension in him and pulled away. "What's wrong?" She knew all charters were currently having troubles with the Mayans, but three Nomads had been killed, one she had known from a couple of parties and two that stuck mostly to the east coast. Tension had been rising between all the Sons, nomadic or visiting.

"I need you to come into Sanctuary," Quinn replied quietly as if afraid someone might overhear. "Pack a bag."

"What?" She shook her head in confusion. "You need me to work? I need a bag? What is going on, Rane?"

"Lockdown."

She'd heard it whispered around Sanctuary recently, Martha had to explain it to her. Despite the fact that Tink had pretty much been able to figure out what it meant, she didn't think the guys could be serious about such a thing. They were actually very serious apparently.

Tink took a deep breath and looked up at the man she occasionally shared a bed with, a man she admired, and loved deeply. Getting used to his lifestyle had a wicked learning curve. Part of her demanded her independence, wanted to push him off and tell him she could stay in her apartment and fend for herself. The look on his face, the worry she found there had her biting down on her lower lip.

She let out a breath and nodded. "Alright," she whispered. "Turn off the stove, I'll pack my bag."

::

The few nearest and dearest of the Nomads were gathered inside of Sanctuary. There were brothers and friends of the club that had been brought in that Tink had never met. She looked around for Indiana, sure that the girl would be there as well. She found the little blonde girl with her godfather, Harry, at the table with crayons and a colouring book.

Quinn put a hand on her lower back and guided her through the small crowd. Tink felt like shrinking under the sharp eyes of the Sons. She knew it wasn't something she would have done before her stint in prison and she fought to stand a little straighter, put on a brave face and eye them right back.

"Hey Quinn, who's the tart?" One of the brother's asked an eyetooth missing from his wicked grin.

Before either Quinn or Tink could respond the brother was promptly swatted in the back of the head by Cricket. "Show some respect, Shithead. She's practically the pres's Old Lady."

Tink found herself surprised by the title and looked over her shoulder at Quinn who had a little grin, and didn't comment.

::

Indiana's howling at ten pm wasn't pleasant. Being the only child under the Nomad's lockdown left her fussy. Martha had passed the girl off to Tink at nine deciding that the bar would be easier than taking care of the child.

For the most part, Indiana was a calm child. The noise had her out of sorts and she couldn't sleep in the furthest dorm room from the bar. Tink sat on the bed beside the girl and ran her hand over the blonde hair. "Just close your eyes."

"No!" The girl whined. "It's loud. I can't sleep!"

Tink understood the girl's frustration but telling a group of bikers to quiet down wasn't exactly effective. She'd tried. She felt for the girl who cried in frustration unable to sleep. Tink brushed away a few tears with her thumbs.

The door opened and Tink turned, her eyes narrowed dangerously as she stood. Her stance relaxed when the light clicked on and illuminated Quinn.

Indiana sat up on bed and reached out for him, her hands making a grabbing motion that she made when she wanted to be picked up. "Daddy."

The noise from the open door seemed all the more loud and Quinn shook his head leaving the room, a minute later the noise had almost completely died, when he returned and shut the door the it was near silence.

"That better?" He asked his daughter.

The little girl nodded.

::

With most of the men out trying to clear up the business that had them all in lockdown, Sanctuary was full of people Tink didn't know. A couple of patched brothers were around for security. The nomads were more unlikely to have any kind of stable relationship due to their tendency to live without a place to really call home. There were a couple of women around who Tink didn't know, then there was Martha who was currently watching over Indiana.

Tink gave the bar a wipe down and a fair-haired woman sat down behind it and took out a pack of cigarettes. She put one to her lips and then offered the box to Tink.

"No thanks," Tink said.

"You don't smoke?"

"No," Tink replied. "I've seen the lungs of smokers' post-mortem. Not pretty."

The woman made a face and shook her head. "I'm Gina."

"Tink."

"I know. The gossip mill is revolving around you."

Tink sighed and bit her bottom lip.

Gina gave a friendly grin. "Don't worry about it honey. These women are all bored and already sick of lockdown. They need something to talk about and the disaster that has always been Quinn's love life has always been a hot topic."

Tink put the rag down on the lower counter. She couldn't be sure if the woman was genuinely trying to be friendly, or if she was just trying to pull the latest dirt to keep the gossip going. "Disaster?" she asked curiously. She only knew of Jessica.

"Yeah," Gina looked around and Tink put an ashtray up on the bar. "Thanks." She tapped the cigarette on the side. "He's a good man, always has a steady influx of women."

Tink's lips pressed tightly in a thin line, she knew the other guys were with a different sweet-butt each week but she'd always liked to think that Quinn had been different… or at least was now different. Sometimes she wondered if he was with someone when she'd been in prison. She wouldn't be surprised, but she would be hurt, so she never asked.

"Do you wear the crow?"

"What crow?"

Gina pushed up the sleeve of her shirt showing off a crow in flight on her arm. "The crow that marks you as an old lady. It was a tradition started by the mother charter, SAMCRO. All the other charters fell in step with it. Makes sure brothers from visiting charters know which women are completely off limits. Hell, it makes sure anyone in this kind of life knows the women belongs to a Son." Gina lit the cigarette, inhaled it deeply and blew it to the side before she continued her conversation. "And everyone is talking about you being Quinn's old lady, but you have no crow."

Quinn had never mentioned the tattoo to her. Tink shrugged. "I don't need a tattoo to validate my relationship."

"It isn't just about validation," Gina replied waving the cigarette trapped between her two fingers. "It's about protection. It's about commitment to your man, and to this club."

Tink wanted to get Gina back on the topic of Quinn's love life, but wasn't sure how to tactfully. She wiped the lower bar absentmindedly. "I met him right after he lost Jessica."

"So you don't know much about him before then, huh?"

Tink shook her head trying to appear neutral while she was just as gossip hungry as the other women, well, at least on this topic she was.

"Quinn's always been a real good guy, treats women with respect." Gina shook her head. "I was around when he met Helena," Gina shook her head. "Now there is a big bucket of crazy. Course, men are blinded by a pretty face and dumbstruck by a nice rack. She's in New York and he had no intention of staying there. She still wears his crow, had his kid."

"Kid?" Tink's voice was weak, quiet.

Gina paled. "You didn't… oh… I just assumed that would have been something you…" Gina looked around the room for an escape.

"I didn't know he had another kid."

Gina opened her mouth and promptly shut it. "I just… ah… I have to use the ladies." She jumped off the barstool and made a quick escape.

::

Tink paced the dorm room at the end of the hall. Indiana was curled up on her side sound asleep since the bar was quiet. When Quinn walked in she turned her dark blue eyes his way and he froze in his step. "I've been gone all day so why do I get the feeling you're pissed with me?"

She crossed her arms over her chest.

He sighed and shut the door quietly. "What?" He asked cutting straight to it.

"I was talking to Gina today," Tink said. "Were you ever going to mention you had another kid?"

Quinn took a deep breath. He should have known it would come up and bite him in the ass. "I don't see her."

"That doesn't matter," Tink whispered angrily as she stepped into his personal space and poked him in the chest. "The point is, is that we are together. Aren't we? I mean…" Tink turned and ran her hands through her hair. "What am I to you?" she asked heatedly although she still kept her voice low. "Just another sweet-butt, something to keep your dick entertained?"

"Hey," he said low and dangerous. "What the hell gave you the idea that I wasn't serious about… whatever this is? Fuck, I bailed you out, stuck by you when you were inside. I wouldn't be bringing you to my home, where my kid is if I wasn't fucking serious."

"Well Gina's made it pretty clear I'm not your old-lady!"

"Is that what this is about?" Quinn asked. "Your status?"

"No! It's about either I'm in or I'm not. We've been doing this a long while and I didn't even know you had another child, Rane!"

"Two."

Tink felt her hands quake. "Two?"

"Kids. Two girls. Brooklyn in New York and Sidney in Australia," he explained trying to keep his voice even and low for his daughter sleeping just a few feet away.

Her knees started to shake and she took a seat at the end of the bed. Her head fell to her hands. "Do you see them?"

"I've see Brooklyn about once a year when I head up the east coast. I haven't seen Sidney since she was in diapers."

"Their mothers are raising them?"

"Yeah. I got incarcerated a few months after Brooke was born. Helena used it as leverage to get full custody. And Karen…" Quinn shook his head. "She takes care of Sid." He walked over to her and ran his hand through her hair and took it as a good sign when she didn't move away. She did however look up at him and her eyes were calculated. "I was young, and stupid. They both wore my crow and they both ended up being completely wrong. I don't regret it, I have two children. I might not see them, but I love them. I like to think I got smarter when it came to Jessica, we had our differences, our monumental fights, but they seem to have less power now that she's gone… but maybe all that was just to bring me to you."

"What? You believe in fate?" Tink said unable to keep her face passive as she looked up, an eyebrow raised in question.

"I believe we have one person who makes all the shit we go through in this life, worth it."

She considered the admission for a moment and nodded her head slowly. "It's you," she whispered. "For me… it's you."

He crouched down so he could be level with her. "I love you, Allison." Tink's eyes widened, shocked by the use of her first name. "But I'm not cursing this with my crow. Helena went nuts, Karen… we're not even getting into that clusterfuck, and then Jess…" he shook his head. "You're it for me. My Old Lady, but you aren't wearing that crow."

Tink smirked a little. "So, my Old Man is superstitious?"

He shrugged. "Why tempt fate?"

Tink stayed quiet for a moment before she pinned him with her stare. "You don't hide things from me," her voice strong with conviction. "I'm in this. For good."

He nodded slowly. "Alright, fair enough."


	10. Love and Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the lockdown over, Quinn, Tink and Indiana resume normalcy.

Lockdown lasted four days. A tentative agreement with the Mayans had been found. Everyone was warned to be careful before they left the grounds of Sanctuary.

Tink wiped down the counter, nearly finished cleaning the small kitchen in the bar. The door swung open and Quinn stepped in. She flashed him a smile. "It's a heck of a lot quieter now."

He nodded and leaned against one of the counters. He tugged her by the belt loop on her dress and pulled her into his body. "Stay at my place for the next few days. Give me some piece of mind."

"Piece of mind huh?" Martha called from beyond the door. "Sure you're not asking for a piece of ass?"

"I thought you went home!" Quinn hollered back with a smile on his face.

"I wish the hell I had! Don't be getting it on in the kitchen either!"

"Good night, Martha," Quinn answered, his voice tight with annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah," Martha responded. "You two don't have too good of a night unless you go the hell home!"

Quinn shook his head and Tink's embarrassed laughter was muffled by his shirt.

::

Quinn opened the door to the truck he'd been driving and got Indiana out of her car seat. She yawned and motioned for him to pick her up with grabbing hands. He appeased the tired child who'd been restlessly sleeping in Sanctuary during the lockdown.

Indiana rested her cheek on her father's shoulder and smiled over at Tink. "Are you sleeping over?"

"Yes," Tink responded.

"Can you paint my nails?"

Tink smiled. "Tomorrow I can."

Indiana smiled back sleepily and then leaned back so she could look at her father. "I like Tink. She's nice."

"So you approve?" Quinn asked her as he flipped through his key ring to get the one for the door.

Indiana didn't respond right away. "Yes?"

Quinn rolled his eyes. "To approve is to agree that something is good," he tried to explain to the girl as he unlocked the door. "So you're agreeing that Tink and I being friends is good."

"Yes!" Indiana responded with conviction this time around. "Tink, can we watch Beauty and the Beast?"

"Tomorrow."

"But I wanted to watch it tonight!" Indiana protested.

"You have to get to bed," Quinn said.

"But Daddy!"

"No," he responded firmly cutting his daughters whining off.

Indiana pouted but didn't argue further.

::

With Halloween approaching, Quinn, Tink and Indiana sat out in the backyard drawing faces on pumpkins. When finished making a mess with the black washable marker, Indiana danced around with her new toy that her father had purchased when they were out looking for decorations. The little girl had named the zombie doll named Eddy and hugged it tightly to her chest as her father cut open the top of the pumpkin and removed it. Pumpkin goo and seeds hung from the top and Indiana backed away. "Ew!" She shrieked. "Yucky!"

"Come here," Quinn called her. "We have to take the seeds out of the pumpkin."

Indiana took tentative steps closer and peeked in. "Nope," she backed up. "You do it."

"You said you were going to help," Quinn argued with his daughter.

"I drawed on it."

"You drew on it," Quinn corrected, "but you also need to help take out the seeds."

"Nope."

"Yes."

Indiana smiled. "No!"

"Yes!"

Quinn stuck his hand in the pumpkin and Indiana backed up a step, a big smile on her face. He took out a handful of guts and got to his feet. Indiana squealed and ran behind Tink. Quinn smiled at the brunette and she got worried.

"Rane," Tink said, her voice tense with warning. "Don't even think about it!"

"I think orange would be your colour," Quinn replied, a mischievous edge to his smile.

Tink got to her feet and backed up, Indiana laughed and made a rather uncoordinated run for the sandbox dropping Eddy along the way. She turned back grabbed the stuffed zombie doll that was more cute than scary and carried it by its foot.

"Don't," Tink pointed at him, her dark blue eyes narrowing at him.

He smiled.

She took off running.

Laughter filled the backyard and the troubles of recent days had no power there.

::

Tink heard Quinn coming down the hall and set down the book she had been reading. "Is she finally asleep?"

"Yeah, I read to her for a bit. It put her out."

Tink rested her head on Quinn's shoulder and his arm moved to curve around her. "So she's asleep," Tink reiterated.

"Yeah," Quinn replied looking down at her. "What will we ever do with this time of our own?"

Tink smiled. "Oh we're bright, I'm sure we'll think of something." Next thing she knew, her back was against the couch and Quinn was over her. "See," she said a little breathless from surprise. "I knew it." She wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. "But maybe a place with locking doors is better than the living room."

His arm wrapped around her as he pulled them both upright. "I love smart women," he commented.

She smirked and grazed her teeth against his neck. "Care to walk a little faster?"

"You keep it up and you'll be against the wall."

"Promises, promises," she replied coyly.

He shook his head and got them beyond the threshold of his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Next in series: Equilibrium


End file.
